


Cardinal Points in Quincunx

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Normal Life, Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, Being a Prophet Sucks, Big Secrets, Bunker Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Eer-moonan, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Sam Winchester/Original Female Character, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Het, Human Sacrifice for Profit, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, In Tandem, Innuendo, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse, Monster mash, Monster of the Week, Murder Most Foul, Revelation is a Bitch, Samodge, Slash, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters catch a case while helping FBI Agent Dakota 'Dodge' Gage. A supernatural killing spree is headed down the west coast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Madness of the West

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : Through episode 08x20 Pac-Man Fever

**Mammoth Lakes, California**. Corneilus carried Amelia's suitcase in from the car. He stepped carefully up the stairs, making sure the overstuffed baggage didn't tweak his back. His wife and kids dawdled outside, like they always did. He rolled his eyes at the prospect of unloading everything himself.

He dropped the suitcase off in his bedroom and went back down to the car. Dell and Terrance had left their mother alone, and she was trying to lift a heavy case out of the trunk.

"Sweetie," he said. "You need a hand with that?"

"What does it look like?" she demanded.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help – "

"If you were helping, you wouldn't be moseying!"

"You know what, you can carry the case in yourself!"

He stormed up to his room and unpacked roughly. It wasn't long before he heard the trunk of the car slam, followed quickly by that of the front door. 

Cornelius checked Dell's room. She wasn't there. Then he checked Terrance, but he wasn't in his room either. What were his kids up to? They should both be unpacking. 

He went back downstairs. Amelia was in the kitchen, making herself a nightcap. 

"You see the kids?" he asked. 

"Watching TV," she replied.

He ducked into the den, but Dell and Terrance weren't watching television. They flanked the couch and stood at attention like soldiers, as still as statues. 

"Terry? Dell?" he asked.

Nothing. They were frozen. They weren't even blinking.

"Amelia!"

 

"You wanna bring an FBI Agent here?" Dean repeated. "Here? Where Kevin is? Where Cas is?"

"It's not about want at this point," Sam replied. "She needs to be somewhere secure – "

"Did you tell her about this place?" Dean interrupted.

"No, of course not!"

"Then how does she know about it? How'd she know to ask to come here?"

"She didn't!" Sam replied loudly. He lowered his voice. "She called and asked me if there was someplace she could go where she'd be safe even when comatose from a vision. They're getting so bad now that she can't work, Dean. She had to take a leave of absence."

"Call Garth, get her on his safe house boat," Dean replied. "Kev hid there just fine." 

"Lucifer wasn't around then," Sam replied. "This woman has saved our asses and our friends. She just helped us move Krissy and Kevin's mom and the others. Her being here isn't gonna put us at risk."

"Letting an FBI Agent into our super-secret base won't put us at risk?" Dean repeated. "Did you ever think about what might happen if one day your little partnership fails? Maybe you piss her off. Maybe you put down some-thing that she still thinks is a some-body, and she can't live with it? You think she'll keep our secrets then, Sammy?"

"Yeah, she will," Sam replied. "I trust her. I trust her as much as I trust Charlie, more than I trust Garth. Right now, she's out there with a huge target drawn on her back because of us."

"Us? No way! You wanna blame someone for her problems? Blame Naomi!"

"Her latest visions have all been about Lucifer - "

Dean interrupted, "Sorry, you want someone getting e-brainwaves from Satan to come stay with us? No! Hell no."

"ABOUT Lucifer, not from him," Sam replied. 

Castiel had kept his distance from the brotherly dispute, but Dean didn't seem to be listening to reason. Despite his original misgivings about the FBI Agent Dakota 'Dodge' Gage, she hadn't betrayed the Winchester's secrets. And from what little research the angel had time for, her work regarding other hunters proved her loyalty to the cause.

"If Heaven chose her to receive Revelation, Lucifer wouldn't know about her yet," Cas said, interrupting the conversation now consisting solely of _ad hominem_ arguments.

"Meaning what exactly?" Dean asked. 

"Meaning that his messages, his plans, could be received by her without his knowledge," Cas replied. "It would explain why her visions went from a minor nuisance to overwhelming overnight."

"It sucks for her, I get that," Dean said. "But that doesn't mean we can trust her. Bringing her here could endanger Kevin!"

"Leaving her unprotected in the world is also endangering Kevin," Cas said. "She's receiving Revelation from Heaven, and as Lucifer consolidates power, he will become aware of her. And soon. She knows the location of Kevin's mother and - "

"I get it," Dean interrupted. "So you're taking his side?" 

"I'm merely indicating facts that are important to this decision," Cas replied. "If Dodge is captured by Lucifer, it will put your lives in danger."

"So what's wrong with hiding her at the safe house boat?" Dean asked. "I get Lucy wasn't around when we were hiding Kevin there, but Crowley isn't some pushover."

Cas asked, "What if I transported her?"

"We talked about this, Cas, segue."

"If I transport her here, she will not know the location. Charlie added security measures so no one can trace her here by electronic means, and the Men of Letters have already prevented all supernatural means."

"Great, until she goes outside for a walk," Dean said. "Talks to a few locals, flashes her badge. It's not like folks in Lebanon, Kansas would hold out on an FBI Agent."

Cas smiled. "As long as she is in the bunker, I'll stay here. I can monitor her activities. Ensure she doesn't leave. And I don't sleep."

"Yeah, I noticed," Dean said. It was loaded with venom. Sam could hear the subtext rumbling underneath. 

"Sounds like a plan," Sam said. "Cas already said he'd be here to watch over Kevin, so – "

"Fine! Fine!" Dean said. "But if she turns on us – "

"I will wipe her memory," Cas replied. 

Sam looked shocked, but the suggestion seemed to placate Dean. 

"Deal," Dean replied. "But this is still a crap idea."


	2. Southbound

_Blood was everywhere. Spikes drenched in oil and blood covered the area. Two bodies obliterated, barely recognizable as human –_

_Slowly everything moved. Others backed into the room, clubs in hand._

It took a moment to understand that the events were moving backwards. She was watching the murders on rewind.

_The colors faded to grays as the world continued to operate in reverse. The car with the murdered couple had turned into a driveway. The mailbox read "Hummel Residence." Then everything sped up: highway markers and gas station fill-ups, and traffic signs. The last one read, "Welcome to Mammoth Lakes!"_

Her eyes snapped opened to meet two startlingly blue eyes only a foot from her face.

"Are you all right?" the man asked her.

"Who – who're you?" Dodge asked. 

"Castiel," he said. "Sam Winchester sent me to get you. He's downstairs getting you water at the moment."

"Oh, right – " Dodge began, her head aching. "Uhm, I just had – damn it." Her brain felt like jelly.

"You just received Revelation," Castiel said. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

She replied, "I can honestly say I have no idea, other than it being horrible. Been seeing stuff like it for weeks, actually, but nothing about who or where. At least until now."

"But now you know?"

"City name and a last name, that should narrow it down," she replied. "Where's Sam?"

"He'll be up in a minute," the angel replied. "I must warn you that Dean is displeased about this arrangement."

"Sam's brother? Yeah, he mentioned something about that," Dodge replied. "You gotta cure for this headache?"

"No. The pain is not coming from your body."

Dodge swallowed hard. "Are you a hallucination?"

"No."

"Are you yanking my chain?"

"I don't know what that means."

"No, he's not," Sam said as he entered. "Cas, if you don't mind?"

The angel ducked out of the room, and Sam approached with water, a bagel, and some fruit. 

"Sam," Dodge said, "you got my message. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Your friend there said – " 

"He's right," Sam cut her off. "Your pain isn't something you can get rid of with medication. It's not a migraine or a headache. Not really."

"That's comforting."

"Actually, we might have some good news," Sam said, sitting down as Dodge began to eat. "We think we know why your, uh, visions or whatever have gotten this bad."

"Does that mean you can stop them?"

"It means that once we eliminate the cause, they'll go back to being annoying dreams," Sam replied as honestly as possible. 

Dodge shook her head. "Look, at this point, you could tell me aliens are beaming this shit into my head from space, and that doesn't matter. What does matter is – can you help me?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's the plan. We're gonna target this other factor that set this whole thing into overdrive on you, and once that's gone, then we can focus on getting rid of the dreams for good."

"Best news I've heard," she said. "But I'm afraid I can't return the favor."

"What do you mean?"

"I've only got bad news. My last – vision, or whatever. It's a bad one, looks like a serial murder case. With monsters."

 

 **Mammoth Lakes, California**. Sam and Dean pulled up to a house with a half dozen officers posted around the perimeter. 

"Must be the place," Dean commented as he got out and started for the door.

"Agent Bonham," Sam said as he flashed his badge.

"Agent Roberts, FBI."

"Detective Miller is still here," the officer mumbled as he waved them both in. 

They stepped into the otherwise unremarkable house and saw the majority of the attention was focused on the den. A quick glance answered why. The walls were sprayed with blood, and two bodies lay pummeled and beaten on the floor. 

"FBI?" a man said from the other side of the couch. 

"Yeah, you Detective Miller?" Dean asked.

"Sure am, everyone calls me Mill, though," the man replied. "You boys here because of the case up north?"

Sam dodged the question by asking, "What do we got?"

"We can't be sure, due to the state of the bodies, but we think the vics are Cornelius and Amelia Hummel."

Dean's eyes scoured the room. It was filled with family photos. He asked, "You got a line on their kids?"

"Ah – well, they're both older, teenage," Mill replied. "But we don't know. They just got back from vacation. They checked out of their hotel, and, well, I'm just hoping the kids got away."

"Any reason you've ruled them out?" Sam asked.

"Ruled out two teens from beating their parents beyond recognition?" Mills asked.

"That's right."

"Well, no, but until we find them, we can't really be sure. I mean, for all we know, they were kidnapped or something," Mills fumbled. "I put out a bulletin for them as soon as we realized they were missing."

"Time of death?" Sam asked.

"Right now, best guess is last night around midnight, but the coroner said she'd get a better them after she did the autopsy," Mill replied.

Sam's phone rang, and he left the room to answer it. 

Dean spotted a small, sharp something sticking out of what once was the leg of Cornelius Hummel. He got as close as he could to examine it.

"Did you find something?" Mill asked.

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied. 

"What?" 

Mill joined Dean, awkwardly crouched over the body. 

"Looks like a needle," Dean remarked. "Probably nothing."

Mill waved some guy in a forensics uniform over, and he took whatever it was and put it into a baggy. Dean wished he'd just grabbed the damn thing himself.

"If you don't mind," Mill said standing up, "I've gotta start the paper work on, well, this."

"My partner or I will contact you with any questions."

As soon as Mill left the room, Dean started searching for a second needle, but with no success. Sam returned from his phone call.

"There was a needle-thing," Dean said to his brother. "Forensics took it."

"That was Dodge," Sam said. "She told me that her search turned up four other cases like this. Two in Washington, two in Oregon. Parents beaten to a pulp in the living room teenaged kids missing."

"Didn't she say she saw this yesterday morning?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah."

"Sam, these people died around midnight last night," Dean said. "We could've – "

"Done nothing to stop it," Sam replied. "Until yesterday, she didn't know where to start for a location, and we have no idea what did this, or how, or why."

Dean didn't seem convinced, but he pressed on. "Any of the other cases find the kids?"

"What?"

"You said the other vics had teens, right? Are they accounted for?"

"No, all of them are missing, a total of ten. Twelve, counting this case," Sam replied. "None of them have turned up. It's been over two weeks from the first case in Washington."

"I say we blow this joint," Dean said, "and grab some grub."

 

Castiel paced the length of the war room and back again. He didn't like letting Dean work on cases without him, and he disliked the present circumstances even more. 

A month ago, Lucifer was in Concordia, only a few miles from the Bunker. Out of all the places in the world, why there? Why not Lawrence, at the site of the last battle? Why not the nunnery, where Lilith's blood broke him from the cage? And how did Lucifer manage to kill Michael?

That question bothered Castiel most of all. He came to the understanding that Jesse, the Cambion, descended into hell to raise up a powerful vessel, and the obvious candidate was Adam Milligan, half-brother to the Winchesters. Did the loss of his vessel somehow make Michael vulnerable? Or perhaps inhabiting a vessel for eons in hell weakened him?

Without access to Heaven, Castiel was left to his own devices on the matter. Lately, he would slip into Kevin's room as the Prophet slept feverishly and whisper his questions, hoping he would receive more Revelation of the Great Truth. Now that Dodge was in the bunker, he would do the same with her. The angels might not want to help Castiel personally, but they'd certainly want the Winchesters to stop Lucifer. 

None of the pieces made any sense, and now that his family members consisted of Sam and Dean Winchester, the nonsense of the supernatural world was intolerable. How could he protect his family without knowing what was going on?

"You pace a lot?" Dodge asked as she entered.

"Only when I must," Castiel replied.

"Do you know Avaida?" she asked. "She told me she was an angel."

"Avaida is another angel, yes, but I haven't spoken to her in centuries."

Dodge looked surprised, but she didn't comment on it. "How do you know the Winchesters?"

"That is a long story," Cas replied.

"I've had to take medical leave from my job, and till they figure out how to make these things stop – whatever they're doing, I've got plenty of time," she replied with a smile. "And as far as secrets go, I've got no one to tell."

Cas decided it would be nice to talk to someone, so he said, "I met Dean when I pulled his soul out of Hell. For the first year we knew each other, I was working with the forces of Heaven, which were preparing the world for the Apocalypse. Dean convinced me that the devastation and the end of Free Will would be detrimental, so I rebelled and worked with the Winchesters."

"I'll admit, I wasn't expecting that answer."

"Now Dean and I are together," he added. He wasn't sure why that information was important; perhaps because Dodge's features reminded him of Anna's human body. 

"Also not expecting that, but then again, I'm getting visions, so nothing should really surprise me."

"Did Avaida say anything else to you?" Cas asked. "Tell me everything."


	3. North Sea Oil

Sam waited impatiently at the forensics lab. Dean had insisted on lunch, and afterward they spent a few hours looking over the case files from the other incidents. This meant that the lab had had the needle or whatever it was for nearly six hours already, yet no one seemed to have any idea when Sam could take a look at it.

"Excuse me," he said to a passerby. "I need to see some evidence from today's case."

The woman took a moment, then asked, "Who are you?"

Sam flashed his badge. "Agent Bonham, FBI."

"Someone told you to come here to see evidence?"

"Yes, they did. Who are you?"

"Susan," she said. "Susan Fallen."

"Well, Ms. Fallen – "

"Susan, please."

"Susan. I need to see evidence from a crime scene processed today, and I've been waiting half an hour."

"Okay, come with me," Susan said, waving Sam back towards the front door. "I dunno who told you to go down there – "

"He was a gruff guy. I think he was on the scene today, actually."

"Probably Frank. He's new and more of a lab tech than forensics guy. I mean he's good. He just doesn't know the lay of the land."

She sounded genuine and honest, so Sam curbed his temper. "Well, then, I'm glad you found me."

Susan stepped behind one of the counters near the front door and started typing furiously on the computer. 

"Okay, so, from today, that's the Hummel Residence?" she asked.

"Yeah, my partner mentioned seeing something on one of the bodies, a needle or something, that forensics took for analysis. I didn't get a chance to look at it, so I wanted to check it out – "

"There's nothing listed here like that," Susan said. "But here, take a look at the inventory."

She swiveled the monitor around. Sam looked over the list of items removed at the scene, including fingerprints, blood samples, and footprints. There was nothing about recovering a needle or anything like it from one of the bodies. 

"Is there some reason forensic evidence wouldn't be catalogued?" Sam asked. "If it was still being processed, maybe?"

"No, this list is compiled before we process anything. If something was recovered at the scene, then it should be showing up here," Susan replied.

"I need a list of every forensic tech on scene at the Hummel Residence," Sam said. 

"Okay, there were four, let me print out their info – "

"Photos included, please."

"Uh, yeah, I can do that," Susan said as she busied herself. "I'm sure it's just a filing glitch."

"Yeah, no, I understand, it happens," Sam said. "I'm sure it's just someone's bad day, right?"

She smiled as she handed him printed-off sheets on the four techs on scene: Frank Goren, Andrea Holmes, Joseph Black, and Kimberly Cervantes. The photos were clear enough that for Dean to recognize which one collected the needle.

 

Dean chose scissors for rock-paper-scissors, which he regretted now even though he won the round. Dealing with a coroner was one thing, but waiting for one to show was another thing all together. The morgue was on the ground floor, but even with all the windows open, it remained heavy with the smell of formaldehyde.

He checked his watch. He'd been waiting twenty minutes.

"Hello?" Dean called out.

No answer. Dean decided that a real FBI Agent would either throw a fit or snoop, and he opted to snoop. He didn't need to see the bodies again, so he glanced around for personal affects and found them laid out on a try inside a closed drawer.

Mr. Hummel had a watch, or what was left of one, a wedding ring, and a pendant of what looked to be one of the saints. 

The tray also had a small cup off to the side. It was filled with dark, thin objects that could be splinters, but Dean found them oddly similar to the needle the forensics guy pulled off the body. On a hunch, he took a baggy and snatched the longest of them. 

Ms. Hummel also had a cup of splinters, along with her wedding ring, necklace, and earrings.

Dean made his way over to the door. It'd been over forty minutes now, so Sam was probably done with the forensics lab. He could come back later to speak with the coroner.

As if the thought itself conjured her, the coroner pushed through the doors of the morgue. She started at the sight of Dean. 

"Uh, who're you?" she asked.

"Agent Roberts," Dean said, flashing his badge. "I've been here for over half an hour waiting for the coroner. Please tell me that's you."

"Stephanie Beaulieu," she said, "and yes that's me. But no one told me you were here. Sorry about that."

"The Hummel case," Dean said shortly. 

"Autopsy shows they died of blunt force trauma and massive blood loss, although it's likely they died from a blow to the head – "

"It's likely?"

Beaulieu shrugged. "The beating pulverized much of the skeleton, especially the skull, and it seems the blows were indiscriminate between body and head."

"What can you tell me then?"

"The only thing I can be certain about is that the first two strikes were delivered to the back of the knees. The victims fell to the floor on their backs, and then continuous blows were delivered until they were more than dead."

"Overkill," Dean remarked. "Can you tell if anything was missing from the body?"

"Uh, I'm sorry?"

"Anything missing: eyeballs, organs, anything that could've been taken from the body before pulverization."

"Extent of the damage is too severe to be certain," she replied. 

"Did you find anything else?"

"Still waiting on tox screens and other tests. The only other thing I've got is these...things," she said. She pointed over to the personal affects. "I pulled about a dozen out of their torsos. Could be splinters from the murder weapon."

Dean handed off his card. "Listen, Dr. Beaulieu, if you find anything out, even if it makes no sense or it seems unimportant, call me."

"Really? A fed wants me to call him over any little thing?" she asked.

"For this case, yes," Dean replied as stoically as possible. For added affect, he said, "This is a serial case. We've got ten bodies like this so far, and twelve missing kids. So you find a toenail fungus or so much as ibuprofen on that tox screen, call me. Okay?" 

Beaulieu nodded. "I got it."

 

Dean dropped a bag of burgers on the table of the motel room. Sam had already pinned up a map and spread out the reports he'd managed to collect.

"Dinner," Dean announced. "You would not believe what happened in the morgue – "

Sam came out of the bathroom and cut his brother off, "I waited for over thirty minutes in the lab. Some bozo pointed me in the wrong direction, and I only found out because I talked to some random lab tech that was nearby."

"Huh," Dean remarked. "I waited for forty minutes at the morgue for the coroner. No one bothered to fill her in that I was waiting for her."

"Think that means something?"

"Maybe these guys just hate feds," Dean dismissed. "But I can't really complain because while I was waiting, I got my hands on this."

He produced the splinters he stole from the morgue. 

"Forensics didn't even check the one they pulled off the body into the computer," Sam said, taking the splinters-in-a-bag. "Did the thing you saw look like this?"

"The thing I saw was bigger, longer, but yeah sure, these look just like it," Dean replied. He settled into a seat, not willing to wait any longer for something to eat. 

"Just out of curiosity, which of these guys took the needle thing from the scene today?" Sam asked as he spread the four photos out on the table. 

"Uh, none of them," Dean replied. "Guy I saw was like early twenties, blond, clean-shaven, brown eyes."

"Maybe we should find that guy, then," Sam said, "because according to the lab, these were the techs on scene today."

"So, what? You think it's someone cleaning up?" Dean asked. "That'd be weird."

"Not if the things we're looking for are smart."

"Coroner said the bodies were too badly pulverized to tell if anything was missing, like a heart," Dean said, biting into his burger. 

Sam joined him and unwrapped his own dinner: a chicken sandwich on a roll. 

"Or it could be that this area hates feds," Sam conceded. "EMF reader didn't pick up anything at the house or lab."

 

The pain radiating from her shoulder caused her to drop to the floor; all she could do was yell and writhe. She forced herself to open her eyes.

_Crack, pop! Her arm set back into place, and the pain disappeared. She stood back up, and she found herself moving backwards into a living room. Two people were cowering away from two assailants, but all she could see of them was shadow and angry-blue eyes..._

_Then time pulled her back, out of the room, out of the house, and she forced herself to look, to make it count._

_The house number: 4521. Mailbox name: Lundberg. Painted a pale yellow with blue shutters. Nice yard. But everything happened too fast. She was sitting in an old car, black. She didn't catch the make or model. But wherever she was, she was riding shotgun for Dean Winchester –_

_The car went in reverse, and side roads and highways all zoomed under the car. Finally, she saw, "Welcome to Bishop."_

Dodge took a deep breath. Someone crouched over her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah, uh, who – who are you? Where's Castiel?" Dodge asked.

"I'm Kevin," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dodge. Dakota Gage, FBI," she said. She sat up and assessed her surroundings. "I'm friends with Sam."

"Me too, sort of," Kevin replied. "Cas a little distracted. He's on the phone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, well, visions are a bitch," she mumbled.

"Tell me about it," Kevin said. 

"I gotta call Sam," Dodge said as she pulled out her phone.

 

"Okay, well, that makes sense," Sam said into his phone. "Because the last one you saw happened last night. You must be getting events from the future. I understand, but that's – right, I know. Can you tell us anything about whatever was attacking?"

Dean did his best to ignore the ominous conversation happening over his shoulder. He scanned through the missing persons reports for the children from the other attacks, trying to find a pattern. Almost all of kids were under eighteen, save for one.

Nicholas O'Donnell, age 21, was the Oldest of the O'Donnell children, currently attending Washington State. Two weeks ago, someone murdered his parents and he disappeared. He was the only missing adult in the whole case, but what really caught Dean's eye was his photograph.

Nicholas O'Donnell was the forensics guy from earlier that day.

"I'll be damned," Dean said out loud. 

"We gotta go Dean," Sam said, packing his stuff up. "Dodge just had another vision, this time in Bishop, it's about an hour from here."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Dean said. He held up the photograph, "This was forensics guy from today. He's also one of the missing kids. If this is a monster thing, maybe he knows something. He's got to be one of them."

"Then he'll be down in Bishop," Sam said. "Come on."

"So Dodge calls and all you wanna just run after her orders?"

"This is our first opportunity to get ahead of this thing, maybe prevent some people from dying. You wanna just sit here on your hands because it's Dodge who told us about it?" Sam asked.

"Fine but I'm driving."


	4. Things Are Better In The East

**Bishop, California**. Dean pulled the Impala up to a house at the far side of a col-de-sac. Dusk was falling. 

"House number 4521. The Lundberg residence," Dean said. "Did Dodge say anything about how to kill these things?"

"She said they looked human, but she also said they seemed like shadow. So I saw we take everything: iron and salt rounds, silver bullets, holy water," Sam said as he checked his guns. "I already loaded two shot guns."

A scream broke the air. A second one soon followed. 

"That was fast," Dean said.

Dean threw himself out of the Impala, shotgun barely concealed by his coat. Sam was just behind him.

The elder Winchester kicked in the door, and they ran straight for the living room. Two adults were crumpled up on the floor as two assailants advanced on them.

The creatures appeared human, except their eyes glowed bright, blinding cerulean, and instead of hair, they had a porcupine-like quills covering over their heads. Both creatures carried a spiked club covered with the same needle-like things Dean had seen earlier.

Bang! Sam's shotgun hit the shorter of the two, throwing it across the room. The other darted, quicker than anything Dean had ever witnessed, over to the younger Winchester and threw him into the air. There was a sickening pop and crack that resonated with Dean - 

Bang! Dean landed a silver bullet into the thing's arm, and it screeched in pain and dropped its club. Sam was down, but he rolled over and grabbed the weapon. Both wounded creatures scrambled toward the glass sliding doors and broke through with an incredible leap. 

Dean stowed his gun and checked on Sam. 

"You okay? Sammy?"

"I'll be okay, check on them," he said.

Dean went over to the two people on the ground. "Hey, you okay?"

"What – what's going on?" the man asked.

"You were attacked. I'm Agent Roberts," Dean flashed his badge. "You are?"

"Jake Lundberg, this is my wife, Eva."

"Don't move, just tell me, can you feel any injuries?"

"It feels like my legs are broken in half," Eva said. 

Dean glanced down. Both their knees were at odd angles. "Listen, I'm calling an ambulance for you two and my partner, okay. But I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

"We were going to go out to dinner, so I came down to get the kids," Eva said. "They were in here but not moving. I thought they were playing a game, you know? Making a joke? But after a while, they seemed like statues. Even when I poked them, they didn't move!"

"I came down to get them into the car," Jake said, "and as soon as I got into the room – I dunno, it was all so fast. The kids weren't here when I came down."

"They were," Eva said. "Our kids attacked us. I was here with them, and then they just – "

She screeched in pain, so Dean took their landline and called for an ambulance. 

"Listen, the ambulance is on its way, okay? And ma'am, I'm going to look for your children. What are their names?"

"Izzy and Daniel," Jake said. "And they wouldn't do this. When you find them, please don't hurt them."

"Okay, okay," Dean replied as the blare of sirens started. "Just stay here and wait for the paramedics. Don't move until they've checked you out."

Sam had already gotten to his feet, so Dean grabbed his good arm and hurried him out to the Impala. 

"Dean, what're you – " Sam began.

"You wanna wait till we're boxed in by ambulances and police cars?" Dean asked. 

Sam didn't argue as Dean pulled away and down the street. "Any idea of where these things were headed?" Sam asked. "Maybe we can set my shoulder?"

"Call Cas," Dean replied. "He can zap here, heal you, zap home again."

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied. "It's more than just a dislocation anyway."

In a few minutes, Castiel appeared and touched Sam's shoulder. The bones mended.

"Dodge told me this would happen," the angel said. "She said she warned you as well."

"Told you what?"

"That her vision included a dislocated shoulder," Sam replied. "Mine, specifically."

"Cas, you need to go home," Dean said. "Keep an eye on Kevin and Dodge. And try to find out what kind of monsters use this," Dean said as he passed off the weapon Sam managed to swipe. 

"Dean, you might need my assistance – "

"Yeah, we need to figure out what we're fighting. They took salt rounds, iron, and silver. Nothing."

"Dean – "

"Cas, I'm serious. Go now."

The flutter of wings sounded, and Cas was gone along with the club. 

"Wow," Sam commented.

"Wow what?"

"Well, I'd never talk to Amelia or Jess that way."

"That way? The hell does that mean?" 

"Nothing," Sam hedged. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

 

Isabelle Lundberg had buckshot embedded in her skin; the sadistic bastards who shot her filled their rounds with salt, probably to make the wound burn as much as possible. 

"You okay?" she asked her brother. "Danny?"

Daniel Lundberg wasn't doing much better. The bullet went through his arm and into his chest, where it embedded itself into his rib. 

"I'll be fine," he said. "I can barely feel it. Look."

He held up his arm, and already the blood had stopped. His flesh regrew. 

"They were right," he said. "We're invincible."

 

Cas wasn't certain why he felt so frustrated as the research yielded no results. He expected it to be difficult with little more than a weapon to go on, yet his anger was close to the surface. Little things made it bubble up and break through.

"Here's something: a porcupine-spiked mace," Dodge suggested, pointing out an illustration. "It's the closest thing so far."

"Any indication of where it's from?" Cas asked.

"Oceanic regions," she replied.

"Okay, that narrows it down." 

"You sound unhappy," Dodge said.

"It's true," Kevin said. "I didn't want to say anything."

"I don't know why," Cas admitted.

"Relationship issues?" Kevin suggested.

Cas became even more confused. "I don't see why that would happen," he said. "But Dean was short with me. Shouldn't I be mad with him? And not at this?"

Dodge nodded. "Yeah, but he's out there in danger," she said. "So even if you're mad at him, you're holding it in, letting it out in odd bursts. No stranger to that myself."

"Do you do that?" Cas asked Kevin.

"Dude, I'm nineteen and not nearly that self-aware," Kevin replied.

"I'm eons old and have little knowledge of self-awareness in the human sphere," Cas said. "Don't feel too badly."

Dodge buckled forward, as if she couldn't breath. Her eyes opened wide, so wide that their whites seemed too bright. Her body shook violently, and she grabbed the table to keep herself from falling to the floor. By the time it passed, tears of pain covered her cheeks.

"Whoa, Sam said I shake when I get Revelations, but – "

"Yours are not like this," Cas replied. "You are a Prophet, every molecule of your being is made to handle Revelation."

"That sounds really creepy," Kevin said.

"This one was worse, much worse," Dodge began. "And I don't understand it."

"Was it going backwards like the others?" Cas asked.

"No, but we need to call Sam and Dean, tell them to get to the Cornwall High School gym."

 

"Dodge, slow down," Sam said. "Dean's driving us there right now. So, can you tell us anything else? Besides the burning people alive thing?"

"Can't the god-squad doll out any freaking details?" Dean asked. 

"Okay, okay, thanks. We're on it," he said as he hung up.

"Come on Sammy, tell me we know something." 

"She said that she got this weird feeling like these two were failures," Sam replied.

"These two? Does she mean the parents or the kids?"

"Both, I think," Sam replied. "And she couldn't be any clearer than that."

"Awesome. So we're going to prevent a human barbecue and our only lead is these two failed," Dean said. "Visions suck. I mean, they sucked for Chuck, now they suck for this chick – "

"Her name is Dodge," Sam cut in.

"I thought her name was a state. Dakota," Dean said.

"Technically my name is Samuel, but I'd punch you in the face if you called me that."

"Whatever. My point is, why do they suck? I mean, Heaven could just send a message to us: Something's killing people in California."

"Right, like you'd go for that."

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Dean, you would never go for being Heaven's bitches, and you know it," Sam said. "You'd ask the angel who told us to go fix it themselves."

"Okay, that's true. But can't they just give her dreams? Something more specific? I mean, Benny was dead and his messages made more sense than this shit." 

"Yeah, but Benny knows you," Sam replied. "Angels understand about zero percent of humanity."

Dean parked the Impala. "We're here."

"I don't see anyone on fire," Sam commented mildly. "But Dodge says it happened inside, so – "

They managed to get into the gym without incident; no one was around. Footsteps echoed hugely.

"Hey, you!" Dean yelled at the blond-haired man. "You!"

The young man turned around, and shock was evident on his face.

"Nicholas O'Donnell?" Dean asked.

"They're going to kill me!" Nicholas yelled. 

"Who?"

More footsteps echoed even before Dean could finish asking. 

"Those're the kids from the house – " Sam began. 

"Nick, get over here!" Dean barked as he drew his gun and pointed it at the two figures running straight for them. 

Nick obeyed and hid behind the massively large figure of Sam Winchester. "I swear, I didn't know – "

"Shut it," Sam barked, drawing his own gun. 

"Stop!" Dean yelled. He was shocked to see two very human people: Izzy and Danny Lundberg. 

"Dean, those're the ones from the house," Sam repeated.

"Yeah, but look at them now," Dean replied. He turned to them, "Izzy and Danny Lundberg?"

They both nodded. Realization dawned on Sam as he saw the last of the quills recede into Izzy's head. He stepped forward, putting up his gun.

"Listen to me," Sam said. "You were given some kind of deadline, right? You had to do something by around this time, and you haven't done it yet. Am I right?" 

"What's it to you?" Daniel asked. 

"Oh, nothing," Dean replied. "Just that you're about to be burnt alive."

Izzy gasped. 

"Don't listen to me," Daniel said. "They're lying."

"They're not," Nicholas spoke this time. "That's what they do to anyone who fails to kill in forty-eight hours of being turned."

"Who're you?" Izzy asked.

"My name's Nicholas," he said. He showed them his left arm, which had a long, clean cut across it. "I was like you."

Dean stepped forward. "I'm going to make this real simple. If you attack us now, we will shoot you dead. You can stay here and wait for whoever it is that turned you to come back and burn you alive, or you can come with us, and we can try to save your lives."

Izzy and Daniel turned to each other, afraid. Suddenly, Daniel bolted straight for Sam, who stuck his arm out and knocked the kid on his ass. 

"Looks like your super-speed is gone," he said. "Along with your super-strength and a hellova lot of other stuff. Now will you listen to us?"

 

Cas said into his phone, "Yes, I'll tell her. No doubt she will be pleased."

Dodge was asleep, and the angel had no intention of waking her.

"Kevin just identified them," the angel said into his phone. 

"Whoa, thanks for buying the lead," Dean said. "What are they?"

"They're called Eer-moonan," Cas replied. "They're like werewolves or vampires, except they are virile hunters, skilled with various culling techniques. They turn humans with a ceremonial spear, which gives the victims forty-eight hours to commit themselves to the pack."

"Uh, okay, what happens after forty-eight hours?" Dean asked.

"They revert to their human form, permanently."

"Sounds good to me."

"Except the pack hunts down its lost members and kills them by fire as a form of sacrifice."

"You said permanently, right? So once these kids are done, they're done?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Any notes on how to kill'em?"

"Decapitation," Cas replied. "But they are stealthy, fast, and hunt in a pack. Eer-moonan aren't just monsters, they are skilled warriors that live communally. Any one of them will lay down their life to protect the pack."

"So, how many we talking?"

"Well," Cas said, no longer holding back his annoyance. "You said there were ten children missing, so I would count all of them – "

"Actually, we found one, he's human, so nine – "

"Very well," Cas said curtly. "Then there are nine new Eer-moonan and at least one other that started recruiting, probably more. So wild guess? Twelve."

"Cas what's – "

"I'm hanging up now."

"Cas, wait – "

The dial tone sounded in Dean's ear. 

Almost immediately, Sam received a text.

"Uh, Cas says that the pack will be looking for its lost recruits, so we should be prepared for an attack," Sam read out loud. Then he asked said Dean, "What did you say?"

"Nothing. Angel PMS, I dunno."

Sam's phone pinged again: another text message. "And they are susceptible to wood from any type of Australian Wattle Tree," he read out loud. "Cas says he'll find us some."

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked. "About the attack?"

"He means, you geniuses got yourselves in over your heads, and now these things are gonna try come light you on fire," Dean replied. "And we're gonna try'n stop it."

"They told us we'd be powerful, we'd get away," Izzy said. "They never mentioned anything about killing anybody – "

"Trust me, out of everyone else on the planet, we get it," Sam said. "But we're gonna have to do something and fast."

Nicholas said, "Sorry for holding you up back in Mammoth Lakes. I didn't know the FBI did this kinda thing."

"Right, well, guess what, Nicky, you and these two fine specimens are gonna be the bait."

"Dean – "

"Sam, we've got ten freaks at least looking for these guys. So we need a plan – "

Sam nodded, "Yeah, we do."


	5. Back Where It All Begins

Nicholas picked up one of the sharpened branches and examined it. 

"You sure these things'll work?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Sam replied. "Apparently this species originated in Australia."

"So it's like their kryptonite?"

"Yeah, it won't kill them, but they can't heal from it the way that they can from other injuries."

"Sounds crazy," Nicholas said. 

"I shot one with iron and salt rounds," Sam said. "Izzy, actually. And Dean shot Daniel with a silver bullet. You see a scratch on them?"

Nicholas choked. He might've meant to laugh, but Sam couldn't be sure. 

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"This is my fault," he said.

"So, you invented a time machine, traveled back to the beginning of humanity, went to Australia, and somehow biologically developed a race of Eer-moonan?" Sam asked, trying to side step the impending conversation.

"I knew my brothers - they weren't doing well," Nicholas said. "I promised them once I was out of college, I would get my own place, they could come stay with me. Get away from mom and dad."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my parents were – hard to live with, and I knew my brothers had it worse than me. I should've put college on hold, you know? Waited. It coulda waited until they were both eighteen."

"So when someone promised your brothers independence from your parents, they took it," Sam said.

Nicholas nodded. "We all did. I wouldn't let them do something like that – in case things went sideways. I'm the big brother, you know? And instead – now they're gone and my parents are dead, and – "

Sam put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Hey, listen, this isn't something that you can pretend is your fault, okay? Because all of that falls on your parents, not you. And if there was some blame that fell to you, nothing could prepare you for something like this. Okay? This is the kinda thing most people don't survive. And when you do, you can't drag around the blame. That'll get you dead. Or worse."

"Yeah, sure."

"Listen, you tracked them, right? You're the reason Izzy and Daniel are out there are alive. You wanna face facts, then that one should be at the top of your list," Sam said. "I've seen a lot of people go down that path, and they have one thing in common. They all hit the self-destruct button. Do me a favor and don't do that to yourself. Don't commit yourself to this life."

"You mean like you have?"

"My situation is different. I've been stuck in this life since I was six months old," Sam said. "And I'm still fighting to get out. Trust me when I say you don't want to end up like me."

"You look fine. You do good."

"We all make sacrifices," Sam said. "You might not see mine along my arm, but they've been carved out of my heart. Believe nothing else I've told you, but believe that."

Nicholas took two sharpened sticks and the duffle bag Sam offered him. 

"You ready?" Sam asked.

"No," Nicholas replied. "But hey, what the hell."

 

"This is stupid," Izzy said to her brother as they stood back-to-back. 

"Which part?" Daniel asked. 

"We're in a friggin' field!"

"For me it's these damn fire suits," Daniel said quietly. "But if it means we don't die, I'm all for it."

"Yeah, okay."

 

Dean never liked the idea of using people as bait, but for some reason, using Izzy and Daniel caused him no internal conflict. Maybe it was their willingness to slaughter their own family, or maybe it was because he really had no other choice. He wasn't sure, but he didn't like it.

Most of all, he felt ridiculous. Castiel had gotten several arrows made of wood as well as a crossbow, which he dropped off unceremoniously in the back seat of the Impala. Dean didn't mind using shot guns, handguns, even knives as necessary. But a crossbow? He drew a line at that shit.

Unfortunately, Sam's height made it impossible for him to be stealthy while wielding a crossbow, so Dean got to go archaic on the Eer-moonan.

Movement caught his eye. Three figures came in from the East, heading straight for the bait.

"Got a sight," Dean called over his walkie.

He felt like he'd dropped straight into a bad Vietnam film.

 

"Get ready," Sam warned Nicholas.

Screams broke the silence, no doubt it was Izzy and Daniel. Nicholas moved to help them, but Sam held him back. 

"You can't help them that way."

Nicholas looked conflicted, but he nodded.

"Good, I'm heading to my position. Stay here, be ready."

 

Daniel screeched as loud as his sister, terrified by the sight of the warriors billowing toward them.

When he and Izzy first changed, they had quills on their heads and glowing eyes, but they looked nothing like this.

Fully-fledged Eer-moonan had long, slender bodies that could run on all fours as well as stand upright. Their crested heads had blade-like porcupine quills, and their eyes were a dull, light blue. With the right hat, they'd pass for human, but at this moment in time, there was no mistaking them.

The first three of the pack moved in, closing in a wide circle not far from Izzy and Daniel. The goal was to make them break apart and flee, so that the pack could take them down separately. But they both held their ground. 

Two more joined them from north and south, and soon all five barreled toward the shaking siblings. 

All five disappeared as the ground disappeared from under their feet. They howled desperately, sounding more like trapped rodents than people. 

Izzy chanced a glance down into the circular moat they'ed dug earlier that day. At least two stakes impaled each Eer-moonan, preventing them from moving.

Dean's voice came over the walkie. "Got five in the trap, might be seven more out there. I'm moving in."

The elder Winchester left his perch and sprinted toward the panicked siblings. He saw all five were down for a count.

"Either of you know how to shoot?" Dean asked. 

"I do archery," Izzy replied. 

Dean turned his head, as if to ask, "Really?"

"I like The Hunger Games," Izzy confessed. "I can definitely shoot a crossbow."

"Catch," Dean said as he tossed her the weapon and then the arrows. "Don't hesitate, I mean it."

"Wait, what're you – " Daniel began.

Dean drew his machete. "Decapitation is what it takes to kill them."

"Seriously?" Daniel asked. "But they're people – "

"You remember what it was like, when you attacked your parents?"

Both of them nodded.

"Did you feel like people then?" Dean asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. "You dodged a bullet. You're human now. But these things? They're not human. They're not people. They're monsters. You know how I can tell? They're killing people. They're trying to kill kids. You get it?"

Daniel nodded. "Okay, but, we're here."

"Don't look at me," Dean said. "The rest of the plan still is in play. You keep looking out for your sister. You keep to the plan, you understand? No matter what you hear from the pit, no matter what I'm doing. You keep to the plan. You understand, Daniel?"

"Yes, yes, I do."

"Good."

Dean maneuvered into the moat and went to the most injured Eer-moonan; he decapitated it immediately. The next one kept snarling and slashing at him, even though it couldn't free itself from the pegs embedded in its body. 

So he improvised. He cut off the closest arm so he could get close enough to bring the machete down over its head: once, twice, and finally it was headless. The blood sprayed everywhere, and Dean was already covered.

He kept going.

 

Daniel steeled himself. He had no idea what he was doing, but he had to do it, if for no one else than his sister, the young girl next to him holding a crossbow. 

"Danny, I should be the one to – "

"No, Izzy."

"But I have the crossbow, that means – "

"No," Daniel said. "I can run faster, jump higher. Okay. Like he said. Stick to the plan. Okay?"

"Right."

That's when the begging started. Daniel didn't look down, but he couldn't turn his hearing off. 

"My name's Andrew," one of them whispered. "I'm fifteen. You gotta help me. You gotta get me outa here. This guy is gonna kill me. Help me. Help me."

"Lily," another one whispered. "I'm Lily. I'm seventeen. Please, don't let me die. I haven't really lived yet. Please help me – "

Whack, crack! Silence. Dean decapitated another. Daniel swallowed hard and focused on the perimeter. He did everything he could to ignore the whispers crashing around him, pleading for their lives. 

A whip-crack sounded, then another screech. A sixth Eer-moonan had come from the West, the way Izzy was facing, and she'd hit him square in the heart with an arrow. 

Daniel realized he'd nearly missed his window. He turned East and lept over the moat. Then he ran for his life.

At the same time, Dean emerged from the pit and decapitated the arrowed Eer-moonan. He tossed its head into the trench and pushed the rest of its body in after it.

"Danny, go!" he yelled. "Don't stop!"

"He's gone," Izzy said. "He's running."

"Daniel's coming your way," Dean said over his walkie.

He took a moment before leaping over the pit and joining Izzy. She seemed genuinely surprised.

"What, you thought we'd make you stand alone?"

 

Daniel could hear them; they were nearby. He couldn't be sure how many. The sound of his heartbeat filled his head, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from crashing to the ground. 

Then it happened. His left leg gave way, and he flipped over himself trying to break his fall. He landed hard on his back, and pain spiraled throughout his body.

Wind rustled through the trees. Three Eer-moonan surrounded him. He failed. He was dead.

A sickening squelched erupted out of the first: a sharpened stick impaled through its abdomen, followed immediately by the harsh stroke of a machete. Sam Winchester stood in its place as the decapitated creature collapsed.

The remaining Eer-moonan crashed into Sam. Daniel vaguely remembered that they always took down the strongest first. 

Sam was thrown to the ground, but he managed to throw up a long spear, catching one of them in the leg. He pushed up, and the creature spat out a horrible, aching roar as it tumbled and twisted sideways.

The second one brought its club down fluidly, straight for Sam's head – 

But both of its arms were caught by another spear, this one thrust by Nicholas. 

"Sorry, Brendan," he said. "But I won't let you kill this man!"

He pulled the spear out then drove it through the thing's neck, throwing it onto its fellow. 

Sam, who had regained his footing, quickly decapitated both.

Nicholas was shaking.

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"Yeah, well, at least I stopped them," he said. "Brendon, Jason. I'm so sorry." 

Daniel got to his feet, winded and confused. 

"Come on, keep close," Sam said. "We've only seen nine."

"Only nine?" Daniel asked. "That's not enough?"

"We were expecting ten or twelve."

 

The others, if there were others, never showed. Dean packed up as Sam went to speak with the Lundbergs. They invented a story that involved involuntary drugging, and Dean knew it would sound more sincere coming from Sam than from him.

So that left Dean to handle Nicholas. 

"Listen, Nick," Dean said. "You did good."

"Really?"

"You did something I never could," Dean said. "You knew you had to, and you did it."

"I'm the reason my family is dead."

"No, you're the reason your family is at rest, instead of walking around killing people." 

He realized now might not be the time for a big brother pep talk, especially because Dean Winchester was the big brother that failed the world. He never could kill Sam, or even let him die, even when the Apocalypse, the world, everything was put on the line. How could he talk to this kid who had more strength than he did?

So he changed topics, "You got a ride back to Washington?"

"Yeah, I can get there," he replied. 

"Well, if you need help, you can call us, okay?"

"Right," Nicholas replied. 

"This room is paid for tonight, if you need a place to crash. Sam and I are headed out."

 

"Yes, thank you," Cas said before he hung up. He spoke to Dodge and Kevin, "Only nine Eer-moonan were killed. And it's likely we will be seeing more of them."

"Why do you say that?" Kevin asked. 

"Because I've seen them," Dodge said, almost as a question.

"Yes," Castiel replied. "Either Lucifer is trying to enlist them, or they are emissaries of a power building against Heaven. Either way, they are recruiting members for a reason."

"That's heartening," Dodge replied. 

"With any luck, your visions will be less painful," Cas said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it," Dodge replied. "I went from having bad dreams to being crushed under the wheel in like a week."

"If you'd like, I can help you sleep," Cas offered. 

"Thanks, but I was hoping to talk with Sam," she replied. "When he gets back."

 

Sam sat behind the wheel because for the first time in a long time, Dean asked him to drive.

"So," Sam began once they were headed east on the highway. "What's up?"

"What?"

"You asked me to drive, and you're not drunk, injured, or unconscious. So, what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Dean, just fucking say it."

"What's your problem?"

"My problem?"

"Yeah, your problem!"

"My problem is this stupid pussyfooting. You can hack off the head of a fifteen-year-old when it comes down to it, but actually just saying shit? No way. So just fucking say it," Sam blurted. 

"Wow," Dean commented. "Don't hold back, Sam. Tell me how you really feel."

"Forget it," Sam said. 

They rode in silence for a long time. 

Dean wondered if Sam knew, or had guessed, what was really bothering him. Sam did talk to Nicholas, so maybe he had an idea that Dean's old self-loathing was flaring up. No, if that was the case, Sam would be comforting and would remind him that he was a good brother, not bitch and moan about his hesitation. So Dean turned to the other thing that was bothering him.

"I don't get what's going on with Cas," Dean admitted finally. "He was depressed out of his gourd. Barely moving. Then he's fine. Telling me he'd let the world fall apart – "

"What?"

"That he didn't care about the world."

"You sure that's what he said?"

"I was there, you weren't. What else could he mean?"

"Maybe that he'd rather let other people die to save your life. With all he does, it's pretty clear that he cares about the general state of the world."

"Why would he feel badly about that?"

"Because he's an angel, and he's a soldier, and no matter what, he's always done what's right, not just for us, but for the world," Sam said. "Now he's looking down the same barrel again, and he wants to save us more than he wants to help the world. I can understand him feeling guilty about that."

Dean remained quiet for a few minutes. "You think that's why he's mad?"

"No, I think he's mad because you can be a real ass and have been treating him like a lackey instead of like a boyfriend," Sam replied. "And why are you asking me? Ask him."

"I can't have him going crazy on me again, Sam. Not with Lucifer around. Not with the weird monster mash on the loose – "

"Dean," Sam interrupted. "Stop with the big picture for three seconds. Just talk to him as his partner, okay? And listen to him."

"That's your advice?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He turned up the music and let the Asia blast.

 

Kevin sat in the war room with pen and paper, but he wasn't writing. Dean and Sam both had people in their lives. Castiel, Dodge, Charlie, Garth. Who knows who else. Kevin had his mom, and Krissy, Jo, and Aiden. All of them were somewhere else, and now their absence hurt. 

Part of him wanted to cut his losses and bolt. He wanted to bury himself in Revelation, open himself up to the fountain of truth, or whatever it took to get things into his head. Maybe if he knew more, he could stop the danger. He could give the Winchesters all they needed and be back at Princeton in the fall.

Kevin wanted to meet someone and fall in love. He wanted to have kids and teach them how to play shoots and ladders, soccer, the Cello. He might never have those things. But if he wasn't going to live that kind of life, then he wanted to have the life that Dean and Sam had. They had each other. They had friends. They kept each other alive, and they managed to keep things together, even when the forces of the Earth were set against them. 

But Kevin wasn't a warrior. He was a Prophet. His job was to know things, to dole out knowledge, to aid in the fight.

Kevin Tran didn't hate his place in the world; he just hated hiding. After reading Chuck's novels, he realized that this man, this Prophet, had lived out in the world for all his life. Not only that, he openly wrote about the Winchesters, and no harm fell on him. Demons failed to attack him. Monsters never approached him. He lived, and breathed, and worked as a Prophet as well as a person.

That's what he wanted. But how would he finally get it?

 

Dodge knocked on Sam's door.

"Come in," he said.

"Sorry," she said as she stepped in and shut the door behind her. "There's a lot of yelling down the hall – "

"Cas and Dean," Sam said. "I'm actually glad. Means they're saying things to each other."

They both laughed. 

"My headaches are better here," she said. "Is that because this place is on Saturn?"

"What?"

"Or at the bottom of an ocean?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Well, whatever the reason, I feel awake and alive for the first time in weeks," Dodge said. "Thank you for this. I know convincing Dean wasn't easy."

"I trust you," Sam said. "Even if Dean doesn't. Don't worry, he'll come around."

"I just wish I was still in a position to help like I was before. I mean, my partner Marie – did I tell you about her? Marie Acevedo. She's a great woman. Anyway, she'll still help if she can, but she doesn't know – she's not aware of the supernatural stuff."

"Huh," Sam said. "What has she thought about your recent, uh, ability?"

"She thinks I have several sources too afraid to come forward," Dodge admitted. "I just – it feels so much better to be around people who know the truth. I can say things and not have to figure out how to say it to cover my own ass."

Sam bit his lip. "Dodge, listen. This whole vision thing. You said angels spoke to you?"

"Just the one. Avaida."

"Yeah, well..." he said, but he didn't finish his thought. Dodge was suddenly very close to him. He hadn't realized that was happening. It wasn't a bad thing, exactly, he even found it comforting, but now that he knew how close she was, all he could say was, "Dodge, I'm sorry."

"You can be angry, or hurt, or depressed," Dodge replied. "Please be anything but sorry."

Their lips met, and the rest of the world fell away. Sam's arms wrapped around her, one at her waist and the other moving up her back.

His heart raced, and all he could think was that he hadn't been this happy, this alive, in years.


End file.
